


you know how bad boys get

by Saperli_Popette



Series: Sunlight in a Jar [1]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Age Difference, M/M, Not Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-24
Updated: 2018-04-24
Packaged: 2019-04-27 02:59:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14416227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saperli_Popette/pseuds/Saperli_Popette
Summary: It's six months until Peter is legal in the state of New York, and he's not being at all subtle about what he wants for his birthday present.In other news, Tony is doomed.





	you know how bad boys get

**Author's Note:**

> By AO3's rules, Peter is underage through the entire fic. Nothing happens between Tony and Peter until Peter is above the New York state age of consent, if that matters to you.
> 
> The title belongs to the Police--"Don't Stand So Close to Me," of course. I can't even begin to imagine why I was playing that on loop while I worked on this fic, can you?

Peter Parker is not subtle. 

Actually, compared to Tony's memories of himself at sixteen, Peter isn't that terrible at subtlety. On any objective scale, though, he is being painfully obvious, which is yet another reason to add to the list of at least a dozen reasons why Tony should stay the hell away from him. Tony probably shouldn't even be in the same _borough_ as Peter, just to be on the safe side. 

Top of the list, of course, is the one Tony usually phrases as “For fuck's sake, Tony, how sick _are_ you?” because in addition to all the other things Peter is--brilliant, brave, determined, impossible to dislike, _beautiful_ \--Peter is, for five more months, sixteen years old. 

Tony's not very happy with himself, these days, but all the self-loathing in the world hasn't made this go away. _Attraction_ is probably the best word for it, carrying with it all the connotations of an inexorable draw, gravity sending him plummeting to the ground, unable to escape its pull. 

He should put some distance between himself and Peter. Tony could continue to design upgrades for Peter's suit, create gear that Spider-Man might find useful, and let Happy deliver them. Tony could let someone from R&D take over supervising Peter's research, the faux internship that over the past year or so has become a real one as well. Tony could communicate with Peter via e-mail, when strictly necessary, or--if they both need to go into the field on a mission, which is rare--with the Iron Man suit serving as a protective wall between them. Nothing wrong with Iron Man and Spider-Man communicating. 

It's Tony and Peter who need to be kept apart, for Peter's own good. 

He's sure Peter wouldn't see it that way, though. Completely sure, because Peter is not subtle, and absurdly enough, Peter is trying to make him jealous. 

Peter has a date with a kid he knows from school. A boy, Peter makes sure to mention repeatedly, watching Tony carefully every time. Tony treats it like a random data point, because really, it is. It's nothing that surprises him--not about anyone, and definitely not about Peter. Peter's been watching him too intently for too long for Tony to be surprised. 

“Great,” Tony says, the third time Peter mentions that he and this Charles kid are going out on Friday night. “You could use a night off from crime fighting, kid.” He's been calling Peter “kid” a lot lately, ever since the first time he watched Peter's face light up with enthusiasm and felt a surge of _want_ in response. It annoys Peter a little, which can only help with that much-needed distance, and it reminds him why he can never do anything about this, why he shouldn't even be thinking about Peter (and he does, all too often). 

( _At least not until he's seventeen_ , a treacherous part of Tony's brain whispers, because then this will still be twisted as fuck, but it won't actually be a crime.) 

“Uh, yeah,” Peter says, looking a little deflated. “It's going to be great.” And for someone who can practically bounce off the walls on his worst days, Peter is doing a terrible job sounding like he's looking forward to this date. Tony finds himself feeling a little sorry for Charles, whoever he is. He hopes Charles isn't any more interested in Peter than Peter is in him. 

He's sure there is a Charles, and that they're really going out on Friday, because Peter's not a natural liar. Besides, Peter's probably hoping that Tony will have them followed, or something equally melodramatic. But Tony hopes Charles isn't going to get his heart broken. 

Hell, he hopes Charles is going to have a fucking fantastic time, he tells himself. He hopes that Peter decides this kid is the love of his life, or at least the love of his next few months, and forgets all about his silly crush on Tony. It'd be the best thing for him. It'd be the best thing for _Tony_. 

Tony's not great at wanting things that are good for him, but he'd be willing to give it a try. 

“You need any cash?” he offers. “I mean, I know you're getting paid from the internship, but if you want to take him somewhere really special, I'd be glad to help out.” He grins. “I could get Happy to drive you.” 

Tony dredges up every memory he has of every teen comedy he saw when he was Peter's age, and tries to go into full-on Embarrassing Adult Mode. He lowers his voice a little, so that Peter leans closer to hear him--and he didn't plan that, not really, but he can practically feel Peter's body heat radiating against his skin. “He can stop off before you pick your date up, if you need to buy condoms.” 

Peter buries his face in his hands, so Tony must be doing this right. 

But then, because Tony's brain never knows when to stop, he goes on, “I know sex ed usually starts and ends with how babies are made, so if you have any questions, need any advice...” Tony finds himself wishing he believed in an afterlife, because he _deserves_ to go to hell for that, really. 

“Mr. Stark!” The bits of Peter's face that are visible behind his hands are bright red. Tony's sure that at least three-quarters of the embarrassment is of the “Oh, God, why are adults so weird?” variety, which is good, which is fantastic, which is exactly what Tony wants. 

Unfortunately, Tony's also aware of the way Peter swallowed hard, and of the way his breathing has sped up just a little--and Tony is _not_ going to look down to see if there's any sign of every teenage boy's nemesis, the inappropriate boner, because despite the evidence, he's not _that kind_ of pervert--and that's... also exactly what Tony wants, in spite of himself: Peter thinking about Tony giving him advice about sex. Advice accompanied by a hands-on demonstration. 

Tony grins, and claps his hand on Peter's shoulder in what he hopes is a very paternal manner. “Sorry,” he says. “Just trying to help.” 

And then, mercifully, his phone buzzes, and there's actual business he has to attend to, so Tony's slide down into the depths of depravity has to be called to a halt for one more day.

****

He has to hand it to Peter: he's either genuinely interested in Charles--whom Tony has never met and never wants to--or really committed to this “make Tony jealous” bit.

Potentially both, because Peter _does_ look happy when he talks about Charles, and Happy _does_ threaten to quit if he has to drive them anywhere, ever again, because he'd rather get shot at than have teenagers making out in his back seat. But also, Peter hasn't stopped watching Tony the way he used to: watching Tony's mouth, his hands; looking intently into Tony's eyes every time he mentions going out on a date, or tells Tony something that Charles said. 

He's looking for a reaction, Tony knows, and Tony is _not_ going to give it to him. Tony isn't going to be jealous of a teenager, who is perfectly appropriate for Peter (and yeah, Tony did run a quick background check on one Charles Murphy, high school junior, but that, at least, Tony's confident he'd do even if he'd never fantasized about Peter's mouth), and who, at the very least, is not old enough to be Peter's father, and not a particularly young father, either. 

And Tony's not going to react when Peter slouches into the lab one Saturday afternoon, drops his bag heavily on the floor, and sighs, “We broke up.” 

At least, he's not going to be happy about it (he's not, and the tiny part of him that's thinking, “Good; he's _mine_ ,” is the part that needs to be stomped into silence, because _Jesus Christ, he's in high school_.). He does put on his Concerned Face and say, “What happened?” because normal people, people who don't have very specific sex fantasies about being pinned down by artificial spiderweb, would care about that, he's sure, so it's okay to indulge his curiosity. 

Peter shrugs. “I kind of missed a date last night. There was this purse-snatcher, and....” He sighs again. “I couldn't just walk away because I was supposed to go to the movies, but I couldn't explain, and so we had a fight.” 

“It sucks,” Tony agrees. “It sucks even when you _can_ explain, trust me.” 

“Great,” Peter mutters. “So I'm never going to get to do anything normal, for the rest of my life.” 

Tony's tempted, for just a minute, to point out that clearly the best thing to do would be to get involved with someone who not only _knows_ about Peter's other identity, but _understands_. “No, you get to,” he says at last. “You definitely should. I know, you have a responsibility and you can't ignore it. I get that. But you get to have a life, too, or at least you get to try. So take the afternoon off, call this boyfriend of yours, and ask him to let you make it up to him.” 

“Thanks,” Peter says, “but I don't think so. I don't think we were going to work out anyway.” He looks up at Tony. White teeth worry at his lower lip, leaving it reddened and wet. 

Jesus. Tony looks away, because he's not _actually_ made of iron. Though if he keeps looking at Peter's mouth, one part of him is going to be doing a good impression of it. “I thought you liked him,” he says. 

“I do like him,” Peter says, “but I don't think I want to date him. I think I'd be happier with someone more... mature. You know?” 

Yeah, Tony knows, because Peter isn't remotely subtle. Peter so obviously wants him to use that as an opening to make a grand declaration, to throw himself at Peter's feet. The boy's not an idiot, though; he's probably hoping for nothing more at this point than an anguished, “But we can't, not until you're old enough.” He's not even getting that. 

Tony is going to keep his depravity strictly to himself, thank you very much, and never mind the little voice that keeps adding, _for now_ , because that little voice is an asshole.

****

“When I suggested you try the new suit on, I didn't mean here in the lab,” Tony says. His voice is probably a little sharper than necessary, but _fuck_ , this is getting old.

Peter clearly has an even lower opinion of Tony's ability to control his libido than Tony does, and frankly, Tony's is getting lower by the day. He seems to think that all he has to do is take off his clothes, and Tony will be completely overcome by lust and unable to keep his hands off Peter's still distinctly underage body. 

If Tony was Peter's age, that would probably be true. Then again, if Tony was Peter's age, there would be no reason why Tony should stay away from him. That's the entire problem, after all, and the entire reason why Tony is standing with his back to Peter, eyes closed in case there's a reflection in a computer monitor or a bit of shiny metal. He's not going to look at all, even if he desperately wants to. 

Even if he's already seen it, the first couple of times Peter tried this particular stunt. 

The first time, Peter knocked over Tony's coffee cup, splattering (luckily only lukewarm) coffee all over his shirt. Tony had called and asked a gofer to bring down one of the Stark Industries t-shirts left over from the last trade show, expecting Peter to wait until the shirt arrived, then change. 

Instead, Peter had peeled off his shirt straight away, and Tony's breath had hitched, looking at the smooth clean lines of Peter's torso, the lean muscle--more developed than most teenagers', thanks to that spider bite--underneath unblemished skin. He'd turned away almost immediately, but it was too late; Peter had seen him looking, was observant enough to notice the interest on Tony's face. 

Tony thinks that maybe, possibly, that first time had been accidental, but from then on, he's sure Peter's been doing it on purpose--especially when Tony's made some improvement to the spider-suit, and handed it over for Peter to try out. It's painfully obvious--especially when the only thing Tony's modified is the mask, and yet Peter felt the need to strip down to his underwear and put on the entire suit. 

“It's not like I'm naked,” Peter says. “You didn't have to turn around.” 

He practically is, though, or was, depending on how much of the suit he's put on yet. Tony remembers that from the second time, Peter standing there in nothing but a pair of bright-red briefs. Night after night, in his imagination, Tony peels those off with his teeth, rips them away and casts them aside, watches Peter shimmy out of them in an awkward striptease. For his own sanity, he'd had to turn around. 

“Just giving you some privacy,” Tony says, and hears Peter huff in exasperation. 

Peter doesn't say anything, though, because Peter is bright enough to know that he can't--that they can't--so a minute later, Peter says, “Okay, let's check this thing out.” 

When Tony turns around, Peter's in his suit, mask pulled down, and that makes it so much easier for Tony to keep his distance. 

Maybe they _should_ only interact in their respective suits, after all.

****

Tony has never been guilty of lusting after youth for youth's sake. The last time he felt more than a brief flash of aesthetic appreciation for a teenager, he _was_ a teenager.

That's why this obsession with Peter feels like such a betrayal. Tony is intimately acquainted with his lengthy list of character flaws, and “inappropriate attraction to jailbait” has never been one of them before. 

In two months, Peter will turn seventeen. Tony still plans to do nothing about this attraction, because Tony breaks everything and everyone he touches. He doesn't think he could stand knowing that he's broken Peter, too. 

Peter is the one consistently bright spot in Tony's life right now, the only friend--if it's reasonable to think of your teenage intern as your friend, and Tony's guess is that it really isn't--he hasn't already damaged in some way. If he tarnishes that brightness, he might never be able to forgive himself. 

On the other hand, if he _doesn't_ give in after Peter's birthday, Peter might never be able to forgive him, and Tony's not sure he can be okay with that, either. 

Peter has escalated his campaign of what Tony's sure he would call seduction. Now, every time he and Tony are in the same room together, Peter finds excuses to touch him. 

It's nothing that would raise any eyebrows, not really, especially not if you're only observing one isolated incident. (And if you don't know Tony very well--which is why he keeps Rhodey and Peter very well separated. Rhodey can read Tony's body language well enough that he'd _know_ , and Tony couldn't bear to have Rhodey disgusted with him. He's disgusted enough for the both of them, anyway.) 

No, without the pattern, without the history, there's nothing wrong with any of it. Tony may not like to be handed things--thus eliminating the chance that their fingers would brush, and he's sure that disappoints Peter greatly at the moment--but if Peter sets something down in front of him, it's always close enough that Peter's hand can nudge against Tony's arm. 

It doesn't stop there, either. 

Thanks to that spider bite, Peter's not a clumsy kid, even if a lot of boys his age are tripping over their oversized feet, but suddenly, Peter just happens to stumble a lot more often in the lab, and he always does it right when it means he'll bump against Tony and have to reach out, putting a hand on Tony's shoulder or back to steady himself. 

“Oops, sorry, Mr. Stark,” Peter says, smiling at him, his cheeks just faintly pink. He knows what he's doing, and he knows Tony does, too. 

It's the time when Tony's focused on something on the display in front of him--thinking Peter is engrossed in his own part of their joint project--and Peter comes up behind him that has Tony determined to keep at least ten feet of physical distance between them from now on. 

It's not unheard of for Peter to look over Tony's shoulder at times like these, asking questions about what Tony's doing. He's there to learn, after all, and his intelligence and curiosity are a big part of what interested Tony in the first place--both back when his interest was completely innocent, and now that it's not. 

But Tony's sitting on a stool, not a chair with a back, and Peter presses against him, his breath hot on Tony's ear, and god _damn_ it, a good man wouldn't care, but Tony's not a good man. He's been reminded of that so many times in the past few years that it's not even worth pretending any more. 

He's not a good man, and Peter is so close, so willing, even if Tony doubts Peter really knows what he'd be letting himself in for. It takes all the force of Tony's own will not to give in, right then--not completely, but to at least give Peter the acknowledgment that he wants, the promise of more in a few weeks' time. 

He isn't going to do that. He may not be a good man, but he's better than that, anyway. 

So he points to the answer to Peter's question on the display, and he curls his free hand into a fist, nails digging into his palm to distract him from the press of Peter's body against his back, and as soon as Peter steps away, Tony suddenly remembers an urgent appointment. 

And if that appointment is with his right hand, behind a locked door (because this is getting frankly humiliating, in addition to disturbing; Peter's the horny teenager, not Tony, for fuck's sake), well, what Peter doesn't know won't hurt him. If Peter doesn't know, then _Tony_ won't hurt him. 

His self-control might be slipping, but he hasn't slipped that far.

****

Tony decides that the best thing, the only thing, to do is to stay away from Peter completely. He starts spending more of his time upstate, more time with Rhodey, more time locked in his personal workshop, driving himself until he's so exhausted that he has no choice but to sleep.

It's the only way he _can_ sleep, any more, but at least that has nothing, or at least not much, to do with Peter. 

He still can't leave Peter alone. Of course he can't. He tries--for two weeks, he manages--but then the regular emails from Peter (updates on his research, on his patrols, on the performance of his spider-suit, all upbeat and optimistic and balm to Tony's battered heart) stop, and in their place is just one short paragraph: 

_I'm sorry. You're probably really busy, huh? I'll stop bugging you._

Tony still doesn't email back, but he finishes the minor upgrade to the web shooters that he's been tinkering with and has Happy deliver them to Peter. He's too busy to go back into the city, he explains, and given how close to collapse he probably looks, nobody's going to question it. 

He's tired enough that when Rhodey corners him and tells him to get some sleep (“For fuck's sake, Tony, you're not a kid anymore, you can't keep doing this to yourself,” and Rhodey has no idea why Tony flinches), it's easier to give in than to fight it. He's tired enough that he can sleep, which is a mixed blessing, barely a blessing at all, because he's also tired enough that when he dreams--Siberia, the Chitauri, all the other usual suspects--it doesn't wake him. 

When he finally does wake up, it's morning; he's slept the night through for once. He's sick and shaky after a night of dreams, but it's nothing coffee and a hot shower won't--not cure, but slap an adequate band-aid over. 

There's email from Peter in his inbox; Tony doesn't open it until he's dealt with everything else, no matter how boring and trivial. The boring stuff mostly gets forwarded to Pepper or to various assistants, but today he makes an effort, writing comments, at least, giving his opinion of the content instead of just sending the original message on. 

Finally, it's all dealt with; Tony opens up the message from Peter. It's short and a little stilted, but it's still something like a normal email from Peter--academic decathlon competitions, a snag he's run into in the project he's working on-- “ _but don't tell me how to fix it; I'm gonna work this one out for myself, ok?_ ”--and an attachment, a video file labeled “FIELD TEST - YOUR EYES ONLY” and yesterday's date. 

Tony plays the video without hesitation, wanting to see how the new web shooters hold up in actual use. 

It's a terrible video--usually, if Peter records something like this rather than just trying things out in the lab, he gets Ned to take the video, but this time, he's clearly working alone. At the outset, things are fine: he holds up his phone and says, very formally: “Spider-suit test: enhanced web shooter apparatus,” and gives the date again. Tony's sure his expression under the mask is utterly serious, but Tony can't help but smile at it. 

But then, when Peter's actually trying to try out the web shooters--the changes are slight, just a tiny improvement in the targeting, but it was something Tony could finish quickly and send on its way--he has to put the phone down, propping it against a brick on the rooftop where he's filming, and things get complicated. 

He moves out of camera range a few times, and he has to do the web shooter trials more than once. The first time, he sets them off before he's in the frame, and Tony can hear him muttering under his breath. He has to turn the volume up to maximum before he can just barely make out, “Great, even your _web_ goes off too soon,” which gets a snigger out of Tony even though he's sure he wasn't meant to hear. The second time, Peter gets excellent footage, but didn't mark his target on the wall, so there's no real proof that he hit anywhere close to where he intended to. Finally, things go right, and Peter punches his fist in the air in triumph. 

“Would you look at that?” he crows. Then, in that serious voice again, he pronounces the tests complete. 

The video still has another ninety seconds left to go, so Tony lets it run, shaking his head when he realizes that Peter is using the rest of that time to pose for the camera. To pose for Tony; he's sure of that, because the first pose he strikes is one that--if he were the girl on an action movie poster, anyway--would be the ubiquitous T&A shot. Coming from Spider-Man, it's more than a little bizarre, but the intent is clear. 

The intent remains clear, because while Peter doesn't do anything overtly sexual, he's definitely going for “suggestive.” There's a lot of bending over. 

So very much bending over. 

A truly ludicrous amount of bending over. 

It'd be funny if Tony isn't becoming aware that he's paused the video and is staring at Peter's ass, that his mind had been drifting into one of the fantasies he hates himself for having, where he--completely ignorant of Spider-Man's secret identity, of course--runs into the crime-fighter out on patrol, and ends up fucking him in a dark alleyway. 

He deletes the video immediately, then runs a file shredder to dispose of the evidence. Just for good measure, he deletes the email as well. It'll be archived on the company server, but at least it's nothing actually incriminating unless you can see inside Tony's head, which, mercifully, nobody he knows can. 

But first, he emails Peter back with a brief, “Good, glad they're working out for you,” because he is going to keep their relationship professional if it kills him, which it might. 

An hour later, he envisions the disappointed look on Peter's face when he reads the terse one-line response to his latest attempt at whatever the hell he thinks he's doing with Tony, and feels guilty in an entirely different way than he's been feeling all morning. 

Tony sends him the link to an article in a chemistry journal (it's one Stark Industries R&D has a subscription to, so he knows Peter will have access) about some new polymers that Peter might find interesting. It occurs to him that whatever the hell Peter thinks he's doing with Tony, Tony appears to be doing it right back, but he's not going to think about that any more. 

Because clearly, refusing to think about this situation is going to make it go away. It's been working so brilliantly so far.

****

For the next several weeks, Peter keeps sending videos every few days--all technically innocent, all related to either modifications that Tony has made to the suit or improvements Peter thinks they _should_ make to the suit, all featuring Peter in poses that might be sexy if they weren't being done by a teenager in a high-tech red onesie. (They work for Tony, regardless, but Tony hopes he's uniquely perverted in that respect.)

Tony watches the videos and keeps his responses brief and professional. Then he deletes the emails and retreats to deal with both the hard-on (in the obvious manner) and the guilt (usually by application of a stiff drink). He sends Peter journal articles and feedback on his research and firmware upgrades for the suit, but never in direct reply to the videos, because he doesn't want to acknowledge how much he enjoys them--especially the parts without the posing, where he can just enjoy listening to Peter's brain work. (Hell, those are usually the parts that leave his mouth dry and his cock aching, because Tony has always had a major thing for people who are very good at what they do.) 

Two weeks before Peter's seventeenth birthday, Peter sends an email without an attachment, for once. It's an invitation to Peter's birthday dinner, held the Saturday after his actual birthday, and how he got that invitation past his Aunt May, Tony will never know. May doesn't trust him, and that's when she doesn't know anything about the things Tony has been thinking. It's Peter's life she thinks Tony's too careless with, not his innocence. 

Tony is not sitting in May Parker's kitchen eating birthday cake and thinking about how it's now legal for him to fuck her nephew. While his common sense still prevails, he sends back his regrets. He'll be out of town that weekend, he claims, and then makes a note to make sure it's not a lie. 

Vegas, he thinks. He can go to Vegas; he can drink too much, gamble too much, and find a pretty girl, or boy, or one of each, to invite up to his suite for a private party where he doesn't think once about Peter Parker and his barely-legal body. It'll be good for him, or at least it'll be the same old kind of bad for him. 

Not this new kind, where Tony is quietly working on a major overhaul of the suit's AI as a birthday present, along with most of the modifications Peter has asked for, because he wants to make Peter happy even if Tony's not going to let himself be there to see it. 

Peter doesn't reply to Tony's RSVP, and he doesn't send any more videos, either. He does comply with Tony's request, two days before his birthday, to bring the suit back for “maintenance”, but he delivers it to Happy at the Stark Industries building. Happy is, as usual, not even a little bit thrilled to be used as a messenger boy. 

On Peter's birthday, Tony sends the suit back, neatly wrapped up. The Iron Man wrapping paper is a touch of genius, he thinks; it's bound to make Peter laugh. He doesn't allow himself to think too closely about why he wants that so much. 

Then he takes off for Vegas, to remove himself from temptation. 

He lets Peter's call go to voicemail, because he's still telling himself that it doesn't matter. Legal isn't the same as right, and he's going to bring nothing but harm into Peter's life. 

He doesn't delete the voicemail unplayed, but he ignores it while he wins at blackjack and loses at roulette and can't quite drink enough to convince himself that any of the people he talks to or drinks with or flirts with are who he wants to take to bed with him. 

It's probably good that he can't, because it's a lot less awkward to say, “Thanks, but I'm not looking for company tonight,” in a crowded bar than it is to say it in his bedroom. 

It isn't that Peter Parker has spoiled him for all others, because that's just absurd. That's not how things work, not for Tony, anyway. But he's much too fucked-up right now to give anyone else the attention they deserve, and until he at least figures out what the hell he's going to do to make himself stop lusting after Peter--and makes himself _do_ whatever that is--he's not even fit for a one-night stand with anyone. 

So in the end, Tony goes back to his suite alone, and plays the voicemail. 

For someone supposedly celebrating, Peter doesn't sound very cheerful. “ _Hi, Mr. Stark. It's Peter Parker. Just calling to thank you for the suit upgrade. I can't wait to try it out._ ” There's a long pause. “ _Sorry you can't make it Saturday, but yeah, of course you have better things to do than hang out with a kid. I'll see you when I come in to work, maybe. But anyway, I gotta go. Um... bye.”_

And that's when it hits Tony. (It probably should have hit him a lot sooner, but then again, if he was good at the emotional side of things, he'd probably be married to Pepper by now and none of this would be happening in the first place, so.) 

He _misses_ Peter. And from the sound of that voicemail, Peter misses him, too. He's not particularly happy around Peter, but Tony's not really a cheerful guy these days, no matter how well he fakes it. And he's less _un_ happy when Peter's a regular part of his life. 

He's not sure that's enough of a basis for a relationship--he _is_ sure that, seventeenth birthday notwithstanding, he shouldn't be contemplating anything resembling a relationship with Peter, but since when has he ever been known for making good decisions?--but it's not like he and Peter don't have a few things in common. And it's not as if Tony doesn't like him. And no matter how much Tony has tried to fight it, there's definite chemistry there. So maybe that's enough. 

This is still a disastrous idea on so many levels, of course. If this gets out, there's not going to be enough PR spin in the world to fix it. And that's quite apart from Tony's history of destroying everything he touches. 

But Peter's already putting himself in danger in a regular basis, so Tony's not dragging him into this life. He'd be doing this if he'd never met Tony. And Tony's willing to bet that if he puts some effort into it, he can keep people from realizing Peter even exists, let alone what he and Tony are doing together--at least for a few years, until it'd be gossip-worthy, but not actually _scandalous_ , if they get found out. 

So maybe what he needs to do this weekend--because he's still not foolish enough to go back to New York and let himself be convinced to face May Parker over cake and ice cream--is to stop pretending that this interest in Peter will all go away if he just ignores it, and decide what he's going to do about it. 

Specifically, how they're going to keep this secret, at least for a while, and how Tony is going to convince himself that he's not going to leave Peter a fucked-up mess when things come to their inevitable end. 

And then, what he's going to say when Peter sends him his video review of the suit upgrades.

****

Fully a week after Peter's birthday, he still hasn't sent Tony that video. Maybe, Tony thinks, once Peter realized there was a chance something might happen between them, he figured out that the reality of Tony isn't what he wants. Maybe he's gone back to dating age-appropriate people.

And maybe, Tony realizes, since the videos stopped right after Tony turned down that invitation, Peter is sulking. (Upon that thought, he has to think for a few minutes about whether this is what _he_ really wants, but as teenagers go, Peter is remarkably un-sullen, and besides, it's not like Tony is always a model of emotional stability and mature behavior. He might be deluding himself, but not _that_ thoroughly.) 

He'd just try talking to Peter, but Peter has some time off from his internship--that was worked out weeks ago, it's something about academic decathlon practices, so at least that's not sulking--because now that Tony's made up his mind that he's going to go for this, the universe has conspired to punish him for it. 

So Tony finally sends off an email--a perfectly reasonable email brimming with plausible deniability, should that become necessary: _Looking forward to seeing the video of your tests of that new equipment. How's it working out?_

 _I didn't make a video_ , Peter replies. _I can send you a write-up if you want._

God damn it, why can't things just go the way he wants them to for once? 

Fine, he wasn't going to make any lewd comments about Peter's ass in the spider-suit. Probably better not to, anyway. _You can report in person. Tomorrow, after your practice thing. I'll send a Lyft._ Tony's glad he decided to keep an apartment in New York even after he sold the tower and relocated Stark Industries. “Clandestine relationships with a teenager” hadn't really factored into his decision-making process at the time, but it does make things easier. 

Peter agrees to the arrangement, though, and Tony doesn't email back, because he _is_ being careful and _isn't_ committing anything to an email that could--probably won't be, because Tony takes information security seriously, but could--be read by an outsider. 

They can talk tomorrow.

****

At six-thirty the next evening, Peter's sitting in an armchair in the apartment Tony has barely ever used, looking nervous. Tony'd like to put him more at ease, but they're probably both going to be uncomfortable before this conversation is over.

“Did I do something wrong, Mr. Stark?” Peter asks. “If I'd known you expected a report on the suit--but I thought they were kind of annoying you, so...”

Tony holds up a hand to stop him. “No. You haven't done anything. And...” He pauses to consider. “I think, right now anyway, it ought to be 'Tony.' I'm just a guy you know from your internship, and we're just talking.” 

Peter looks even more doubtful. “Okay, Mis-- Tony.” 

“That's better.” He smiles at Peter. “There's something I think we need to talk about,” he says, and watches Peter flush. “It's been seeming to me like you've been trying to drop a few hints in my direction. Am I right?” He's usually a lot more direct than this, but he isn't going to be, not with Peter. Peter's going to have to tell him what he wants, without any prompting from Tony, because he's realized that the only way that he can do this without tearing himself apart with guilt is to be absolutely sure this is Peter's idea, not just his own. 

The flush darkens. “I. Um. I'm sorry? I know I shouldn't have, but...” 

“Hey, no.” It would be so easy to go over to him, put a hand on his shoulder, see the relief on his face. But he can't do that, not yet. “I just need you to talk to me. Now, was I right?” 

Peter nods. “Yeah. I... yeah.” 

Tony grins. “And what were you hinting at?” 

“You know,” Peter says, squirming in his chair. “I know you know.” 

He sighs. “Yeah, I know. Or at least, I'm pretty sure I know. But it's really important that I hear it from you, because otherwise I'm never going to be sure that I didn't talk you into something you didn't want to do.” 

Peter thinks about that for a few seconds, and then Tony can see the moment when he gets it. “Oh. Yeah. Because I'm... a little bit younger than you are.” He looks pleased with himself when Tony can't stop himself from laughing. 

“Yeah, okay. Because you're a _little bit younger_ than I am. We'll put it that way if it makes you feel better.” 

Peter nods. “Okay. So. Yeah. I knew we couldn't do anything until my birthday, but I wanted to make sure you knew that I wanted--um. That I was interested in. You. And me, I mean.” 

That's so awkward it's almost painful for Tony, and he's not the one having to say it. But it's clear enough, at least. “Wanted? Past tense?” 

Peter shrugs. “It's not like you're interested, so--”

“I never said that,” Tony points out. “I've never said anything about it, one way or the other, because that's not a conversation I'm going to have with jailbait.” 

“I'm not jailbait,” Peter argues.

“That's right,” he says, giving Peter a slow grin. “You're not. Now.” 

Peter's eyes widen. “Oh! So all that ignoring me was...?” 

“Ignoring you. Very deliberately ignoring you, because you were sixteen years old, and the smart thing for me to do was to have absolutely no clue what you were doing. And you still haven't answered me. Wanted, past tense? Because if it is, that's fine. I'll send you home.” 

“Please don't, Mr. Stark. Tony, I mean. Because it's not. Past tense. I--” All the stammering and half-finished sentences gave way to a burst of speech with almost no room for breath in between words. “I know I'm just some kid and you can have anybody you want, people who are a lot cooler than me, but I want, I _want_ you, and sometimes I think you do too, want me, I mean, and maybe even like spending time with me, so can we? Please?” 

He doesn't laugh. He wants to, at least a little, but he knows Peter will take it personally. “Breathe,” he says. “I'd have kept ignoring you if I wasn't interested, but we have to talk first.” 

“Isn't 'we have to talk' supposed to come at the _end_ of dating somebody?”

“This is important,” he says. “I won't go to prison for touching you anymore, but you're still--” 

“A little bit younger than you.”

“Exactly. Nobody can find out about this. Not for a while.” Tony isn't expecting this to last more than a few months, but on the minuscule chance it did, they'd have to go public eventually. But not yet. Not while Peter was still in high school. 

Peter thinks about that for a moment, then nods. “My aunt is not going to like this.” 

“I don't blame her,” Tony says. “I wouldn't want me around my kid, either.” He may have decided that he's doing this, but he has no illusions about it being the right thing to do. It's not, but trying to be a good man hasn't worked out all that well for him He might as well grab whatever bits of happiness he can. 

“Okay, I promise, I won't tell anybody.” Tony wonders how long that will last, how soon this will all come crashing down around them. Too soon, he's sure.

“That also means that when we're working at Stark HQ, or if you're at the Avengers facility...” Tony shrugs. “It's going to be difficult, but unless we're behind closed doors, it's going to have to be business as usual, at least for a while.” 

“But when we're alone?” Peter looks up at him hopefully. “When we're alone, I get to--we can do stuff, right?” 

Tony raises an eyebrow. “Do stuff?” he repeats. Maybe it isn't the most sensitive reaction, but... yeah. Peter deserves to be given at least a little bit of a hard time for that phrasing he's seventeen, not seven. When Tony was seventeen... well. Tony was a mess at seventeen, so that's not the best comparison. 

Peter turns red again. “I have a list,” he says. 

He has a list. Of _course_ he has a list. “Want to share?” 

Peter is still blushing, but he grins. “Well, it starts with kissing,” he says. “And moves on to... pretty much everything.” 

Oh, Tony doubts that. He's fairly sure Peter has no idea what “everything” could possibly entail. “We'll have to talk about what you mean by 'everything' later,” he says, “but yes, we can make a start on your list.” 

“Now?” 

“Yeah,” Tony says. “Any time you want.” 

“Then definitely now.” 

“Come over here, then.” He means for Peter to come and sit on the arm of his chair, but Peter has other ideas: without an instant's hesitation, he sits down on Tony's knee, calling up a whole flood of thoughts Tony isn't sure Peter is at all ready to hear. 

“Should I move? I know, I'm heavier than I look,” Peter says; Tony must not be doing as well at hiding his reaction to a sudden lapful of Peter as he thinks. 

“No, you're good.” He puts his arms around Peter, and Peter moves closer, curling against his chest like he's been waiting months for just that opportunity. Maybe he has. Maybe this is on his list. “Comfortable?” 

Peter beams up at him, which in this case, Tony is willing to interpret as a yes. 

“If you don't like something,” he says, “or even if you just don't like it right at that moment, I want you to tell me, okay? Even if you think I'm going to be disappointed. Hell, I might even _be_ disappointed, if I'm enjoying it, but I'm not going to be angry at you.” 

“Okay,” Peter says, sounding irritated. “You know, it's not like I've never done anything before. I did have a boyfriend. We made out.” 

“Is that where your list ends, then? Making out?”

“No! Of course not.” 

“All right, then. At some point, we're going to get to something you don't want to do, or don't like doing, and I want you to tell me.”

Peter scowls. “You don't need to protect me just because you think I'm a kid.” 

“How about if I want to protect you just because I don't want to hurt you?”

He considers that for a minute. “That depends. What about you? What if I want to do something that _you_ don't want?” 

Okay, that's a reasonable question. “I sincerely doubt you're going to suggest anything that's on my list of things I absolutely won't do. But yeah, if I don't like something we're doing, or you ask for something I don't want, I'll tell you. Deal?” 

Peter nods. “That works.” A second's hesitation, and then, “Can I kiss you now? I've been waiting forever.” 

Tony does laugh at that, just a little. “Oh, all right, if you've been waiting _forever_. Or even what, six whole months?” 

Peter scowls at him briefly, but then leans in and kisses Tony. At first, it's pretty much what Tony was expecting--brief, hesitant, as close to “chaste” as a kiss can get when it's being delivered by someone sitting in your lap, pressed against you the way Peter's pressed against Tony. Then Peter frowns, shakes his head, and tries again.

It's--

\--actually, it's pretty damn terrible. It's too hurried, and too awkward; the angle's all wrong, and their teeth clash together (Peter actually mutters “Ow,” at one point), and Peter has clearly heard that there's something you're supposed to do with your tongue, but hasn't actually managed to work out what that _is_. The best Tony can say for it is that it's very enthusiastic, and that at the end, Peter looks pleased with himself. 

Good thing Peter's a quick learner, Tony decides, cupping Peter's cheek with one hand while resting the other at the back of Peter's neck, holding him still for Tony to kiss him again. 

He kisses Peter softly a few times, waiting until he feels Peter relax into his touch before he begins gently coaxing Peter's lips apart for him, then slowly, deliberately licking into Peter's mouth, exploring it with painstaking thoroughness. He can feel Peter shiver as he starts to not just yield to Tony's kisses, but return them. 

_Much_ better. Tony lets Peter take the kiss over, smiling against Peter's mouth as Peter proceeds to demonstrate that he is, indeed, a very good student. Peter twists in the chair so that he's kneeling astride Tony, pressing him against the back of his chair; Tony puts his arms around Peter's waist, then lets his hands slide down to cup Peter's ass. He can feel Peter's moan against his mouth. 

“Good boy,” he murmurs, and Peter kisses him again, before breaking apart to look at Tony with a slightly dazed expression. 

“Was that okay?” Peter asks, wriggling around to settle comfortably in Tony's lap again. 

“Yes, that was okay,” Tony says, the corners of his mouth twitching into a smile despite his attempt to keep his expression serious. “And with the way you're squirming around in my lap, I'm pretty sure you can feel how okay it was.” It isn't just the kiss, obviously; it's the lap full of Peter Parker and the weeks of frustration and all that lovely enthusiasm, but he still wants to see how Peter will react to undeniable evidence that Tony wants him. It'll give him a better idea of how this thing between them is going to go, at least for the next little while. 

Peter's reaction is to give another experimental wriggle, and then to break into an incredibly smug grin. He's blushing again, but he has no problem looking Tony in the eye, so Tony figures the embarrassment isn't too severe. “It's about time,” he says. “I've been trying to do that to you for ages.” 

“You've been succeeding, too,” Tony confesses. “Which might explain why I kept suddenly recalling that I had a meeting to get to.”

Peter's grin gets even more smug. “I knew it. Well, no, I didn't, but I was hoping.” He sounds so damn happy about this that Tony's finding it difficult to feel guilty. 

Then he leans in close, as though he's imparting a secret. “Um. Me, too,” he says, as though the evidence of that hadn't been pressing into Tony's stomach just a minute ago. (Tony feels considerably less smug, thanks to both the lingering guilt and the knowledge that getting a seventeen-year-old turned on doesn't exactly require a Don Juan, but it's still gratifying.)

“I know,” Tony says. “Do you want me to do something about that?”

“No,” Peter says quickly. “I mean, if I ignore it, it usually goes away. You don't have to...” 

“I'd enjoy it. But if you'd rather I didn't, that's okay.” 

Tony kisses him again, and Peter responds eagerly, kissing back until they're both nearly breathless. He can see Peter's cock straining against his jeans, and Tony wants to touch it, but he's not going to, not unless Peter asks him to.

Peter reaches for Tony's hand and presses it against him. “No, I want you to,” he says. “I really want you to touch me.” 

That's clear enough for Tony, so he gets Peter's jeans open. “Has anybody ever touched you like this before?”

Peter shakes his head. “Just me.” Then he grins. “But I've done it a lot. I'm pretty much an expert.” 

Tony laughs, giving him another kiss before taking Peter's cock out of his underwear. He rubs over the head, getting his fingers wet with pre-come. Peter shudders and clutches at Tony's shoulders. 

“This probably isn't going to take very long,” Peter admits, looking at the floor. 

“Yeah, I figured,” Tony says. “It's okay. Really. I used to be your age, remember? I know how it works.” He starts stroking Peter's cock, and Peter's fingers dig in harder to Tony's shoulder. Thanks to the spider-strength, Tony's going to have bruises tomorrow. He'll have to talk to Peter about that later, but it'll be fine this time.

Peter's hips buck, and he moans, biting his lip. “Oh, god, please don't stop.” 

“I'm not going to stop,” Tony says, directly into Peter's ear. “Do you know how many times I've imagined what you look like when you come?” 

“Oh, god,” Peter says again, his eyes closed. 

That's the last coherent thing he says for a while; in fact, it's almost the last sound he makes. He bites down on his bottom lip again, letting only the quietest of gasps and moans escape as Tony strokes him. 

Then he clutches Tony tightly again, making soft whimpering sounds, arching his back and coming in Tony's hand. 

Tony kisses him, capturing the last of the needy little whimpers, until Peter slumps back against him. 

“Wow,” Peter breathes, beaming at him again. 

A ridiculous rush of fondness washes over Tony. “Wow,” he repeats, grinning back at Peter. He surreptitiously wipes his hand on his shirt; he's got clothes to change into here, and Peter's going to need to look presentable when he goes home. “So that met with your approval?” 

“Nope,” Peter says. “I hated every minute of it.”

“Smart-ass.” 

Peter gives a happy sigh and curls against him again. “This is going to be okay, isn't it?” 

Of course it isn't going to be okay, Tony thinks. There are so many ways this can end in disaster, and that's not even counting the fact that he knows he can't be good for Peter. 

But Peter is relaxed and content and smiling at him, and there's a warm feeling in Tony's chest that he hasn't felt in a while. He won't call it happiness--he's not tempting fate _that_ blatantly--but it's close enough.

**Author's Note:**

> I realize I've been writing a lot of get-together fic for these two, but I've had a lot of it to get out of my system. Hopefully I'll be able to move past that soon (probably straight to dirtybadwrong sex), once I get over all the IW-related angst.
> 
> This author welcomes concrit. This author is also able to distinguish between "concrit" and "being a fucking troll," and will mock the shit out of you if you try the latter.


End file.
